


Confessions of a Traitor

by theplushfrog



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Complete, F/M, M/M, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-03
Updated: 2009-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-13 23:51:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/509108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theplushfrog/pseuds/theplushfrog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe that was when it had started. Or maybe it had always been there—the capacity to betray his best friends, to perform the Unforgivable Curses, to murder those he had thought he loved most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Being Worthy of James' Shadow

There was a time when James Potter meant more to Peter Pettigrew then air.

It wasn't anything like love, but regardless, Peter needed James. He needed someone to look up to, to worship, to guide him, to make him a better person.

Peter had never felt right in Gryffindor, House of the brave and good of heart. True enough, he had argued long and hard to be put there after James had told him it was his family House.

From that first meeting on the train, James was his life. He studied everything James did in hopes of one day being able to do it himself. He pursued the same ideals James did, even if he wasn't as successful.

It didn't matter much to him at the beginning that James often went off with Sirius and left him with Remus.

Peter knew he was boring. So he tried to become more interesting, in hopes that one day he would be worthy of James's shadow.

He didn't mind Remus. Remus was quiet and left him alone. He wasn't much fun though. Except for the werewolf part, but that had always freaked Peter out slightly. James had been accepting enough of it, so Peter had followed suit.

James has also decided that becoming Animagi was the best way to make sure that Remus knew he was part of the group, and that they cared about him. Peter nodded enthusiastically, regardless of the little voice in his mind asking where was  _his_  way to know  _he_  was part of the group? He ignored the voice and worked along side James and Sirius on the hardest project he had ever willingly accepted.

But… he was a rat. Nothing as cool as James as a stag, or Sirius as a dog, nope, he had the worst inner animal EVER.

Why couldn't he be a dragon, or a bull, or anything cooler then a measly rat? Even a cat would have been better—and he  _hated_  cats.

But, James, as wise as ever, told him that it was good he was a rat. They needed someone with stealth and speed to calm the Willow—they couldn't use a stick with paws or hooves after all. And plus, as a rat, he could sneak into all sorts of wonderful places—like the girl's bath!

James always knew the right thing to say.

That didn't stop Sirius from being an arse about it. He had decided they needed nicknames for their forms, like Remus had for his Wolf—Moony.

So he was dubbed Wormtail. Not as bad as the first few Sirius had suggested, but nothing as completely awesome like Prongs.

Finding the rat was hard—becoming the rat was harder.

James of course, mastered the change long before he did. His stag form was as elegant as it was formidable. Sirius wasn't far behind, and that only left Peter to lag as he always did.

At least this time he didn't need to compete with Remus to see who would be the worst loser. James and Sirius had known he would be last. There was none of the normal teasing and boyish competition when it came to Peter now that Remus was the only one left out of the task of becoming an Animagus. It was a breath of fresh air to the sole lagger of the group for once—although Peter would never say such a thing—this all was 'for Remus' after all.

With a lot of help, and a bit of luck, he managed to join the ranks of the youngest and most illegal Animagi ever.

Looking back on it, that task was certainly the one thing that he was actually completely proud of. There was no one else who could boast that even though they were awful at Transfiguration, they had managed a complete Animagi transformation—something even skilled wizards and witches struggled with for  _decades_ —something he had managed in a few mere _years_.

So they became the Marauders—Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs: youngest illegal Animagi ever in any history, anywhere, and creators of the Marauder's Map—a tool which Peter had finally put in his time and become useful to create.

After all, it had been Peter who had the ideal form to scope out secret passage ways and dormitories where any young Gryffindor boys would never be allowed.

What they didn't know was that he had kept the best secrets to himself. He never told them about the secret room that catered to your every need if you wanted it enough. He never told them about a funny tunnel he had found in the piping that led to snake covered statues. He never told them about the tiny tunnel that led straight from the Gryffindor common room to the outside.

Maybe that was when it had started. Or maybe it had always been there—the capacity to betray his best friends, to perform the Unforgivable Curses, to murder those he had thought he loved most.

Maybe it had started with that little voice in his head that always told him that he was never going to be good enough. Maybe it had started when the Sorting Hat had tried to put him in Slytherin or Hufflepuff (You're not fit for Gryffindor, but if you're sure that's where you want to go…). Maybe it had started when he found out his inner animal was one of the most detested creatures. Maybe it had been when he begun keeping secrets from those closet to him, hiding away little bits of information for use later. Maybe it had started when James—the one he worshiped, the one whose presence was like air to him—had fallen in love and inconsequence left Peter all alone with nothing and no one.

Maybe, just maybe, it had always just been his destiny to become the Traitor, to become the Betrayer, to become the True Murderer of James and Lily.


	2. Accepting a Pawn for Sacrifice

Peter always knew that the Marauders hadn't meant for things to happen that way—it was just how life worked.

In fifth year, James was too busy dealing with Sirius's deteriorating family ties to pay much attention to Peter. That was okay, James had always made more attention to Sirius than to Peter. It was something Peter understood was just the way of their group—Sirius before Peter.

In sixth year, James paid so little attention to him that Peter had begun to be stupider  _on purpose_  just to get James to glance at him, or correct him, or talk to him in any manner. The boy was head over heels in love and had no time for anything else—except that he made time for Remus when that whole Snape Prank went over wrong. That also was something Peter understood was just the way of their group—Remus was fragile, in a mental and social way, and needed James to help him as the leader.

What Peter didn't understand was when Sirius and Remus drew closer as a result of the Prank and James ignoring Sirius for Lily. He didn't understand how James had come to put a  _girl_ —honestly, of all things!—above Sirius and how Sirius was sticking to Remus how he had once stuck to James. But… Sirius and Remus was also somehow different then James and Sirius, Peter just couldn't put his finger on what though.

Sirius and Remus left Peter to deal with the lovesick James more and more. Peter was only getting more and more sick of the whole situation.

In seventh year, James caught Lily and they began dating—and that was the end of the world of James involving Peter in anything.

With his idol off prancing with a silly girl (honestly!), and Sirius and Remus off doing—whatever it was they did while they were gone from the Gryffindor Tower for hours and hours, there was little time for the Marauders. And when there was time for the Marauders, Peter felt like his spot was being filled by the redheaded girl who had decided James's lap was her throne.

More often then not, Peter was left to his own devices. He tried to continue their Ruling by Pranks on the students of Hogwarts, but he just wasn't as good by himself. He couldn't come up with the awesome pranks that James always had, or plot them out like Sirius, or troubleshoot them like Remus.

It just wasn't the same.

Of course, he had never thought that the Slytherins would use this situation to catch him unawares and alone. Feeling threatened by Slytherin had been something done ago, back when they didn't know one of their group was a werewolf and that they were all the most incredibly illegal but skillful wizards of their age.

But at the time, he just was wishing hadn't been so arrogant and idealistic.

Still, it happened again and again.

And each time, none of the other Marauders would come to save him. None of them cared, the voice would whisper and sometimes he believed it.

One day the happenings had managed to become more then just a scuffle in the hallways which left him bruised and hexed, this time the fight had become a bit too real for its own good. And as Peter lay in a crumpled heap on the stone floor, he wished that if any of his friends would come ever to help him, it would be now.

Instead he woke to a familiar, if unnerving presence.

\--

Regulus sat on the edge of the hospital wing bed—he'd been in them enough to know where he was without opening his eyes—peering at him, half in fear, and half in contempt.

"What the bloody fuck are you doing here, Black?" Peter growled, aware that Madam Pomfrey was no where in sight and knowing that Regulus could do something horrible to him if he appeared weak.

The lone Black heir seemed to begin to sneer for a moment before suddenly changing tactics and going with a simple frown. "I want you to join us." He spoke quietly but with such intensity that Peter's eyes widened.

Of course Peter knew what he meant. He was a seventh year, nearly out in the world already. Dumbledore had all the Marauders in his little pro-muggle club already, preparing them for the coming war.

"Not on your life." He tried to growl but only managed a sputter.

"I see." Regulus's frown deepened slightly, so reminiscent of Sirius that Peter had to fight to keep his face composed when the Black heir glanced at his fingernails with the air of one trying to keep from flicking a particularly nasty bug away because it would be rude to the people around him—regardless of the fact no one was around. "I wanted to give you a chance, but I see there is little choice in the matter."

Regulus pulled out his wand, holding it lightly in his grasp. Peter realized after a moment that he was defenseless and made a jolted search for his own wand—which of course was in Regulus's other hand.

"What do you want?" Peter tried again to appear tough, but his voice was edging towards a squeak—something that had embarrassed him endlessly ever since his completion of the Animagus transformations.

The younger version of Sirius studied Peter for a moment before twirling his wand in hand and responding, "We know your friends have given you up for the dead." Peter flinched, "But we are willing to offer you a second chance—with us." He tapped the wand on his arm—something that's meaning escaped Peter entirely.

Peter twisted his face into an attempt at a scowl. His mind was racing to discover what meaning Regulus was trying to portray to him. Somehow, the conversation reminded him of chess—something he was excellent at. Peter had stiffened his defense, but Regulus was offering up a pawn for sacrifice and Peter was cautious to disregard or accept such a strange offer.

Regulus's blue eyes—so different than Sirius's grey eyes, but also very much the same—watched him silently. Peter glanced from the boy to the wand twirling in one hand, to his own wand in Regulus's other hand. A grin spread across Regulus's face then. "Still not willing to accept? Well you will in time." Regulus pointed his wand at Peter's throat, "We are willing to offer you time to  _understand_  our offer, but if you tell anyone else about… this, we  _will_ know." A soft light encased Peter's throat, wrapping around his head before disappearing.

Peter's eyes widened. Unspoken magic? Since when was that even  _possible_? He opened his mouth to say something—anything—but nothing came out. Regulus's frown of haughty disapproval quickly became a sneer.

"Like I said, we will know." And with that, Regulus swept off and disappeared through the door, leaving Peter alone in the hospital wing.

"Are you feeling better Mr. Pettigrew?" Madam Pomfrey peered into the room.

Peter tried not to scowl at her—if only she had been a few minutes earlier! He opened his mouth to reply but not a sound came out, so he just nodded and slipped away as quick as possible.

\--

Peter tried his hardest to capture his fellow Marauders' attention, but when he couldn't make a single noise, the others just ignored him. Or maybe they didn't even notice him. Either way, they didn't know and therefore couldn't help.

After a moment, Peter even tried to write down what he wanted to tell them, but as soon as the words came to mind, they disappeared under his quill.

In the end, Peter realized there was very little he could do but think of some way to avoid Regulus and his groupies until he was safely out of school.

\--

Of course, that did not go as planned. The Slytherins found him the next day and brought him down hard. Snape was always vicious when he was with the group that attacked Peter and this time was no different.

Snape had him pinned with a knee digging into his ribs and his wand out of reach.

"So, have you thought about it, Worm?" Snape sneered at the pudgy boy below him. Peter yelped as Snape's wand dug into his neck, "Have you? Because we won't give you much longer." The point of the wand dug deeper into his skin, a bruise already welling up in its place, "And if you don't accept, we'll just have to kill you." Snape's sneer curled at the edges, letting Peter know he would prefer this path more then Peter accepting, "Such a pity." He spit into the blonde boy's face.

Then they were gone and Peter was alone again.

He picked himself up off the floor carefully. His body marked by hexes and a few curses he hadn't been able to dodge or block. Snatching his wand up, he began the process of fixing himself up. It was good that he had learned so many spells for healing from dealing with Remus and so many counter-curses from dealing with James and Sirius's pranks.

Soon he was up, not as good as new, but walking. The voice in the back of his mind chortled that if he didn't do this every time, his friend would have realized something was wrong ages ago. He ignored the voice. It there was one thing he had learned from being in Gryffindor, it was that he had pride—not much, but enough.


	3. Knowing Your Worth

Peter took to watching his friends while he sat silently on the couch. Surely one of them would notice when he didn't join in?

James and Lily were too busy being enthralled in other another and Sirius was too busy entertaining Remus with amusing shows of his overdramatic behavior.

So Peter sat and watched them completely ignore his existence and wondered if it really was worth it to be their friends.

He shook his head. That was blasphemy! They were his best friends! He scowled to himself and ignored the voice that mused that if they were really his best friends, they would notice his problem about not being able to communicate.

\--

In class, it was amusing how no one noticed Peter's continued silence. After sixth year, when he played stupid on purpose, he had continued the act enough that no teacher bothered to call on him anymore.

The teachers didn't notice the absence of his homework for them—all the Marauders (except Remus) were known for not turning in homework until days later.

And worse, he realized that this all was exactly why  _he_  had been put in his situation—because no one cared if he was there or not.

In the classes he shared with the Slytherins, he could feel their eyes on him.

…Was it bad that he was so starved of attention that even the glares of Slytherins were better then the ignorance of his friends?

\--

When he was coming back from dinner—early so he wouldn't have to sit through Sirius's reenactment of one of Remus's books—he nearly ran head first into someone who appeared to have been waiting for him.

Regulus smirked at him. "Ready to accept our offer yet?"

Peter grit his teeth and glared at the younger boy. He flung his arms about in vague half-gestures—a habit he had picked up after being rendered silent.

Regulus's eyes narrowed slightly, "No? Well at the end of this week, you mine want to change your answer."

Peter glared at Regulus's retreating form.

\--

Snape had him pinned again later that same day. For once, Snape was alone, without his group of Slytherins that trailed him constantly, but that hadn't given Peter anymore of a chance to win.

"What's so special about you?" Snape hissed, nearly pointing out Peter's eye with his large nose. Peter would have laughed at this thought, but Snape's knee was digging rather painfully into his stomach at the moment. "You don't deserve this offer. You don't deserve to live, you filthy mudblood."

Peter's blood boiled at these words, but he was still forced to remain silent.

"Regulus is sticking his neck out for you. He thinks you're worth it." Snape's breath smelled like fish—it was rather nasty. "However, I don't." He rolled off and quickly disappeared down a nearby hallway.

Peter tried to catch his breath for a few minutes, but his mind was racing with Snape's words.

Someone thought  _he_  was worth something?

\--

Peter lay in his bed that night, staring at the curtains drawn tightly, blocking out the rest of the world.

His enforced silence was draining his sanity. He couldn't take much more of this. He needed someone,  _anyone_  to talk to. Even the small 'conversations' with the Slytherins had been more then he had managed to get from any of his so-called friends.

He had tried to signal the teachers that something was wrong, but none of them paid him any attention, assuming it was just another one of the Marauders' many pranks.

Peter tried to growl deep in his throat, but no sound escaped him. He ran his hands through his hair, pulling on it in despair, and convincing himself that the tears escaping his eyes were because of the pain from his hair, and not from the utter hopelessness he felt.

Still… someone thought he was worth all this mess. Someone wanted him on their side because they thought he would be useful.

Peter buried his head in his pillow.

How could he think such things? He couldn't join the other side. He would be turning against his family, his school, his friends… But then, who were his friends anymore?

And if he didn't join… if he didn't, they would kill him. He would be  _dead_. It worth it?

His family had been broken long ago when his father left. Were they worth being killed for?

His school had always thought him useless. The teachers cared little for him and it wasn't like he held any great loyalty to Gryffindor itself ( _maybe he should have been in Slytherin_ ). Was the school anything worth his death?

His friends had always been the ones he looked up to, the ones who protected him, and the ones he considered above anything and anyone else… But did they think of him the same way? Would they die for him? Would they even notice him gone?

Why should he die for people who didn't care for him at all?

Why should he die at all? He could run away—far away. Start over somewhere, maybe live as a muggle, or as a traveling wizard… But he wasn't any good at such things. They would find him eventually and then he would die in even worse ways.

So this was it then. He was going to die.

…The voice in the back of his mind whispered that there was another way.

And for once, he listened.

\--

He waited outside the wall that led to the Slytherin common room. He wasn't stupid—he was Wormtail. No one would recognize a rat.

Regulus appeared, walking out, probably to dinner. The Black heir had his nose deep in some book, and—thankfully—was alone.

Wormtail trailed him for a few minutes, making sure they would be far enough away so no one would interrupt them, then scurried into an empty, nearby classroom and transformed back to Peter.

Stepping out in front of the younger boy, Peter drew his wand and pointed it at the other.

Regulus startled, but had his wand out before Peter could blink. He was about to send off a hex, or a curse, or something, when Peter lowered his wand and raised his palms in front of him in a gesture of peace.

Regulus frowned, blue eyes moving from Peter's face to his hands, then to his wand. Peter rolled his eyes and shoved his wand back in his pocket, repeating the peaceful gesture.

The younger boy raised his brow but lowered his wand slightly. "What do you want, Pettigrew?"

Peter frowned and pointed at his throat.

"Oh… right." Regulus seemed a bit taken back. He waved his wand and Peter felt a lessening in the spell around his throat. "Now talk."

Peter cleared his throat noisily, grinning to himself for a moment before twisting his expression back to a frown, "I…" He croaked, wincing at his raw voice, but continued anyway, "I… want… to know… why." He managed the words slowly around the soreness that was enveloping his throat from days of nonuse.

"Why…?" Regulus gave him a bewildered look for a moment, but quickly regulated his face back to a haughty scowl.

The blond boy tried to take a deep breath, but his throat was sore now and ended up coughing instead. Once he was able to, he choked out the words: "Why… me?"

The pale, raven-haired boy gave him an unreadable look before stilling his expression to a bland but snobby one. "Because you," He began, "Are useful, unlike many others whom make themselves out to be desired, but in fact are completely useless."

Peter studied the Black heir for a moment. Inside, his mind was racing with wonderments focused at the younger boy's words. Like any Black there were different levels to what he said, but what sparked Peter's mind was the certain glint in the Slytherin's blue eyes that spoke of something Peter didn't have a name for. In the end, Peter only nodded an acceptance of Regulus's words and decided he would puzzle them out later.

It was then that Regulus seemed to regain his balance of haughty snobbiness. "So, have you considered your answer yet?" He asked with a well-oiled sneer.

The rat Animagus paused. There were many voices in his mind calling for his attention now, instead of like before when it wasn't even a matter of thought for his answer.

Above the clatter of voices and thoughts, one hissed darkly that it didn't matter what he chose, because one way or another he would die—he would be killed by the Slytherins because he wouldn't join, or he would be killed by his friends because he joined.

 _Well,_  The voice continued,  _If we're going to be killed, we may as well be with the people who think us worth something_.

Worth something.

Regulus thought he was  _worth something_. That he was  _useful_.

So, he joined.

\--

Much later, he stumbled into the Gryffindor common room, nearly sick to his stomach and too dazed to tell earth from sky.

Remus steadied him and his soft amber-brown eyes studied him with concern. "Did you get jumped by some Slytherins? Want me to fetch Poppy?"

The werewolf led him to one of the plump chairs near the fireplace. James and Sirius's faces popped into vision, filled mostly with curiosity, but also a hint of anxiety for his well-being.

"Wormtail, mate, what the sodding hell happened to you?" Sirius exclaimed with his usual tact.

James helped Remus lay a wet hand towel across Peter's forehead, while he chewed on his lip. "I suppose you're not well enough for the party we were planning to throw you."

"Yeah, we noticed you've been real quiet lately and we thought maybe we could cheer you up with a couple of Butterbeers, some Firewhiskey and some music off Moony's crazy muggle thingabob." Sirius added on, cheerfully looping an arm around Remus's neck.

Lily stood next to James and peered at him with worried green eyes, "Well not really a party, parties have to be certified by the Head of House as well as monitored."

"Well, I guess I mean, we five were going to get very drunk and play awful music and have you laugh at our horrible dancing." James grinned.

Remus looked up from Peter to scowl at James, "My music is not awful."

"Of course not, Moony." Sirius snorted but pulled the werewolf closer to his side under his arm.

Soon they were bickering among themselves again.

Peter just laughed. He was already dead to them.

**END.**


End file.
